


Three's A Crowd

by artificial_ink



Series: Window Into My Heart [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, At least when it comes to Gaby, But Gaby loves it, F/M, Fluff, Illya is a little awkward, Napoleon Solo is a cockblocker, Solo will not be ignored, They're not sure if he's doing this on purpose or just has impeccable timing, non-spy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificial_ink/pseuds/artificial_ink
Summary: The five times Napoleon Solo interrupts Gaby and Illya.





	1. Got Love?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again. It's been a while. But I've had this in my head for probably just as long. Just short little chapters, some may be more scandalous than others. Pretty much all with have Napoleon ruining the moment. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! And Happy Holidays! <3

Three months into his relationship with Gaby and Illya still has many moments where he doesn’t believe this is real. Sometimes, he wonders if he will wake up to find Gaby has realized her mistake. When he admits this to her, her face scrunches up in her tell-tale sign that she is annoyed with him.

“That is ridiculous,” Gaby says while crossing her arms. She stands in his kitchen, watching him with a frown as he cleans the counters. Although she brought an overnight bag and the fact that with the snap of her fingers, Illya would gladly run over to her apartment, Gaby likes to wear his clothes when she spends the night. In nothing but an oversized sweatshirt and too long sweatpants rolled up at her ankles, she looks like a little mouse swimming in fabric. It is times like these that Illya knows he is the luckiest man in the world.

“It is how I feel,” Illya shrugs, not sure what else to say. Tomorrow is Gaby’s father’s birthday and he volunteered to bake a cake for the party. Well, it was actually Waverly that suggested it and Illya didn’t feel like he could argue. He’s only met Gaby’s father once and it had been rudely interrupted by Solo, who of course charmed Udo. Illya was only an afterthought of the evening. He really needs tomorrow to go well for him if he wants Udo to approve of Illya as an appropriate boyfriend, so the past week of planning a perfect cake has been rife with stress. The little admission of insecurity slips out before Illya can help it. With a mumble, he continues. “You are the most intelligent, talented and beautiful woman I have ever met. I just can’t believe how lucky I am.”

At that, Gaby blushes, although it’s obvious she does not want to melt at his words. They are straight from his heart though, so he has no regrets at flustering his girlfriend. Stepping closer to Illya, she grabs his hand from where it is wiping a wet rag on the countertop. She tugs and he turns towards her, letting her take both his hands in hers.

“What do I have to do to convince you that I love you?” Gaby asks, hands tightening when she realizes what she had said, shoulders tensing. It’s the first time either one of them have used the ‘L’ word. Her eyes widened and if her hands weren’t in Illya’s, he’s certain she would slap one of them over her mouth. Although there is a lump in his throat, there isn’t any other signs of panic that he can feel. Instead, a calmness falls over him.

“I love you too,” Illya says. The words roll off his tongue easily. Gaby’s shoulders lower and she offers him a sweet smile. For a long moment, they stay in the glow of realized devotion until her smile grows coy.

“How about you take me to bed and show me how much?” Gaby suggests, her smile turning into something a little more devious. A thrum of energy runs through Illya. Before he can make the first move, Gaby jumps into his arms and he catches her. He’s found that she enjoys trying to catch him off guard like this but he always makes the effort to not drop her. As her legs wrap around his waist, Illya bends down his head to catch her lips in a long, tender kiss. If he is going to show his girlfriend that he loves her through actions, he plans to start slow and torturous. As he makes his way towards the bedroom, an incessant knock on the door causes them to break apart. They wait a moment in silence and when they do not hear a second knock, Gaby’s arms tighten around Illya’s neck and she drags him back for a more frantic kiss. They pause mid-kiss when they hear a key unlocking the door. There is only one person they know that would be inviting himself in.

“Did you give him a key?” Gaby asks, annoyance in her voice and Illya can’t help but feel an ounce of smugness at her anger when she is normally quite pleased to see Solo. When Illya shakes his head no, Gaby lets out a frustrated sigh. Illya lowers her to the ground just in time to watch Solo open the door. Illya must talk to the landlord about putting in a chain lock.

“Paulette is getting married!” Solo cries. A normally happy announcement sounds like death on his lips. “She’s getting married to that rat bastard.”

The door slams behind Solo. He doesn’t even bother to lock it behind him as he walks to the sofa, lets out a sigh and lays himself down. With an arm dramatically over his eyes, he looks like a Regency woman in need of smelling salts. Gaby meets Illya’s eye and he can tell that while she is annoyed, she also feels bad for Solo. Illya does not.

As Illya goes to lock the door, Gaby moves towards Solo.

“That is sometimes a side effect of love,” Illya taunts, earning a frown from Gaby and a wail of pain from Solo.

“I’ve done all I can to try and show Paulette that Frank is playing her. I have officially run out of ideas. This has never happened to me,” Solo whines.

“Have you ever considered that Frank really does love her?” Gaby asks gently, she pats Solo on the shoulder and he sits up so she can join him on the sofa. Just as Illya plans to squeeze between the two of him, Solo lays back down, burying his face in Gaby’s lap with a groan that actually sounds a little more like a sob. Illya’s hand twitches to grab Solo by the scruff but a pointed look from Gaby stops him. 

“How can he? He only loves himself,” Solo’s words are muffled and he wraps his arms around Gaby’s waist, twisting to his side so now his head is buried against her stomach. Gaby gently runs her fingers through his hair. “All I’ve ever wanted was the best for Paulette. I still remember how she used to toddle along after me in her diapers when she thought I was going to have an adventure without her. I used to be the one she always called when she found herself in trouble. Now she’s angry at me. Said if I can’t be happy for her, don’t bother to show up at the wedding.”

“I think you may have misjudged him. Sometimes a person needs the right incentive to change. Paulette could easily be his reason. You are always telling us how amazing she is and Frank obviously sees that too,” reasons Gaby, voice soft like she is trying to coax a wild animal. The tense lines in Solo’s body loosen as he soaks in her words.

“From what you have told me, Paulette is much like you. Perhaps Frank has always been in love with you and this is the closest he can get to his dreams,” Illya can’t help but suggest. It’s been a theory he’d thrown at Gaby before and she agreed that it _might_ be possible. Both Solo and Gaby turn to look up at Illya standing behind them and leaning down on the back of the sofa. Gaby appears irate at Illya’s ill-timed suggestion while Solo’s face is contorted into utter despair, brow furrowing in disbelief that Illya would ever say something like this during a crisis. Instead of replying with a cranky retort, Solo just frowns before burying his face back into Gaby’s stomach. Guilt wells in Illya’s stomach. Solo really does appear to be torn over this situation with his sister.

“I will get the scotch,” Illya says with a small sigh, before he walks away, Gaby catches his eye. She mouths out ‘I love you’ and he smiles. Butterflies swarm in his stomach and he is surprised he doesn’t simply just melt into the floor. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, Illya moves to grab a couple of glasses and one of the scotch bottles that Solo keeps at the apartment in preparation of his many visits. New resolve finds its way into Illya’s bones. Although he thinks Solo is being an idiot about all this, he knows that the only way to get Gaby alone and in bed is by engaging Solo long enough until the man finally calls his sister back with an apology. Given how stubborn Solo is, this could be a long night.


	2. Irresponsible Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely comments and the kudos guys! You're all amazing and I did miss writing these two. <3  
> This chapter gets a little bit racy but not completely explicit.

It’s Sunday morning and they should already be half dressed but Gaby has other plans for Illya. She can tell even despite the fact Illya still doesn’t want to meet Solo for brunch and her currently offering a much more appealing alternative, the ingrained need to always be on time is causing tension to stiffen his muscles. For Gaby’s purposes, she wants a different part of him stiffened. They are sitting in bed, Gaby straddling Illya’s lap and smoothing out his hair, still messy from the night before. She leans in to nibble at his neck and smirks at the shiver that runs down his spine. 

“I already texted Solo to let him know we will be late,” whispers Gaby, nuzzling her face in Illya’s neck and unbuttoning his pajama shirt.

“Then I suspect he will be knocking down our door again to complain loudly that it took him months to get this reservation,” Illya says, trying his best to sound unamused but she can hear the want in his voice. His arms engulf her and he leans in, breath mingling with hers but not yet closing the distance.

“Well, he is across the city, so we have at least a half hour before he arrives,” Gaby says and smiles at Illya’s raised eyebrow. He considers her words for a moment with pursed lips. Although he has changed the locks multiple times at his apartment, Solo has still managed to get keys. She is surprised at Solo’s mild courtesy because if it were anyone else, he’d skip the trouble of copying keys and just pick the lock. “Besides it won’t take us very long to get dressed because our outfits are hanging in the closet and we can take a taxi. We’ll only be 15 minutes late.”

“Obviously, I should listen to you more often,” Illya’s voice rumbles through his chest and he doesn’t give Gaby a chance to enjoy it as he crashes his lips onto hers. Their kiss quickly turns hungry and Illya is shucking off his shirt as Gaby rubs her hands along the planes of his stomach and chest. She’s only wearing one of his sweatshirts. Way too big for her but it always makes her feel safe and warm. Right now, she’s feeling a little hot and her skin is aching for Illya’s touch. A buzz of her phone interrupts them but only briefly.

“Okay, maybe Solo wasn’t so happy that we’re running late but he’s an adult,” Gaby insists but Illya just grunts out an unintelligible reply. His hands slip under the large shirt and run up her spine as she settles back on his lap. While he sucks on her neck, she starts to undo the tie on his pajama bottoms when another quick series of buzzes shake her mobile phone, then his. It seems Solo is quite annoyed at their future tardiness. As Gaby’s hand starts to make its way into Illya’s boxers, her mobile interrupts them again but this time with long buzzes. An obvious sign that Solo gave up texting and moved to calling. Illya lets out an angry growl before grabbing her mobile off the bedside table and shoving it into the drawer, slamming it shut without remorse. An excited gasp leaves Gaby as Illya roughly drags her body back against his. Her hands run through Illya’s hair, reversing any attempt she’d made previously to tidy it and Illya moans into Gaby’s mouth.

Gaby loves all of Illya’s sides. Gentle, awkward, shy, sweet and even angry. Illya never is truely angry at Gaby. Annoyed perhaps but not in a full rage. When he’s angry, it’s at someone else and she doesn’t mind poking the beast on occasion to get Illya to act a little gruffer than usual with her. Rough Illya is always fun in bed. She can tell from the hardness pressing into her thigh and the way that his hands tug on her panties until she hears a rip that this will be a particularly good morning.

When the ringing of his house phone sounds out through the apartment, Gaby rolls her eyes as Illya groans pitifully into her mouth. She’s always teasing Illya, telling him he’s the only person in London under forty with a landline. Up until now, she liked using it to find her mobile when it falls between the cushions. Now she’s just cursing it as another means for Solo to interrupt them.

“I promise I will have it disconnected,” Illya swears as he briefly breaks the kiss. As their lips meet again, the call goes to voice mail.

“Gaby, I know you’re busy taking Illya’s virginity but I need to you pick up his antique landline because this is an emergency,” Solo’s voice is heard from the living room.When Gaby notices that he does sound a little less put together than usual, she turns her head away from Illya despite his whine. “You need to get here ASAP, Gaby Teller. Remember that thing I suggested and you laughed at? Well, your father and Waverly are here and I just caught them kissing. Not friendly Continental kissing, either. _Check your cell_. I have photographic evidence.”

At that, Gaby jumps off of Illya’s lap, heart pounding and not in the way she’d planned this morning. This must be a ridiculous means for Solo to get back at them for making him wait but she wants to make sure his texts are jokes before she ignores him and makes him wait for a half hour.

About a month ago, Solo suggested to Gaby that her father and Waverly were more than friends. She’d laughed at his theory, assuming he was just teasing but he’d remained serious the entire time. It’s a strange thing to joke about but now he’s just dragging it out. Taking her mobile out of the bedside drawer, she unlocks it and scrolls through the numerous text from Solo. When she sees it, the photo is unmistakable and a lump tightens her throat painfully but not until after a squeak of panic escapes. As clear as day, her father and Uncle Waverly are sitting at a restaurant, the photo having been taken outside a window. Their hands are gently clasped on the table and they are in a middle of a sweet, gentle kiss on the lips. Her head starts to ache at what this means.

While Gaby would not stand in the way of her father finding love again so long after her mother’s death, too many questions are rushing through her head. How long have Waverly and her father been together? Why did they feel the need to hide it from Gaby? Were they together when she was a child? Did they not think she could accept them?

Unable to form words, Gaby thrusts her mobile into Illya’s hands and he looks at the screen. Even if she were to speak, she is sure it would be in German. Her hands are shaking and it is becoming harder to breath. Illya rubs a comforting hand up and down her back, moving to sit beside her on the edge of the bed.

“ _Ich…was? Warum?_ ” asks Gaby, the room starts to spin but Illya pulls her into her arms, kissing her temple. “ _Warum haben sie es mir nicht erzählt?”_

“Come, let us get dressed and we will ask them when we get there,” Illya promises softly in Gaby’s ear. All she can do is nod in agreement. It is not the fact that her father appears to be in a romantic relationship with Waverly that upsets her. It’s the fact they never felt they could tell her. To let her share in their happiness. The next half hour is a blur but she remembers calling Solo and talking in a flurry of German, trying to make sense of how her Sunday morning could be twisted upside down. All the while, she is held in Illya’s arms and that makes it a little more bearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All translations were from google translate so I apologize to any German speakers if it's atrocious.  
> Translations: 
> 
> Warum haben sie es mir nicht erzählt?- Why didn't they tell me?
> 
> In the first story I secretly shipped Waverly/Udo because for some reason they had a nice dynamic when I wrote them together.


	3. Tell Me You Love Me Through The Phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. For some reason, I was a little blocked with this chapter. But I hope you like it nonetheless. 
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments, even if I didn't get around to replying. I do appreciate each one ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤

Before Illya dated Gaby, he found the constant travel for work enjoyable. He got to travel the UK under company money but still could act as a tourist on off time. Although it often took place with Solo, the pros outweighed the cons. It allowed him to practice his photography, even if the only other person that enjoyed that hobby is his mother. Now that a beautiful woman sleeps in his bed every night, Illya finds the travel to be a little more tedious. On occasion, Gaby joins him and they pay for the rest of the weekend lodging. Somehow, she makes everything around her more vibrant. His photos are much more dynamic with her gracing them and he enjoys their retreats better than the solitude filled vacations from before.

This trip is not one of the times that Gaby is able to join. So, Illya sits in his hotel room in Liverpool, talking to her on video chat. So far, Gaby just complains about the rainy English weather and how a car splashed dirty puddle water onto her clothes when she returned home. It makes Illya smile, just listening to the little things that bother her and watching her face twist in annoyance. Her nose wrinkles and her bottom lip juts out slightly in a pout. He wishes he could sit next to her and run a hand down her arm or even better, kiss the irritation off her face. 

“How is Liverpool?” Gaby asks, pulling Illya out of his fantasy of where that kiss might lead. She just took a shower and now is wrapped in a plush pink robe that is beginning to fall off her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed and he wonders if it’s because she’s been thinking about him or from the too hot water she prefers when she bathes.  

“I would enjoy it more if you were here with me,” Illya admits huskily, enjoying how her face now is a shade dangerously close to red and the pleased grin she wears. 

“I wish you were here to hold me,” Gaby says, voice lowering just a fraction but Illya raises his eyebrow nonetheless. He knows that voice. Feigned coyness trying to cover up a wild temptress. Only mischief follows when she uses that voice and he has yet to be disappointed.

“And what else?” Illya asks, interest piqued. He watches as Gaby shifts on the bed, camera angle adjusting as she lifts the phone just a little bit higher. The robe falls completely off the shoulder and he knows it’s intentional. He can tell she isn’t wearing a top and his throat dries.  

“And kiss me here,” Gaby’s fingertip trails from her bottom lip down to her neck, inching towards her collarbone. Blood makes a rather quick trip from Illya’s brain to his groin. When he opens his mouth to ask another leading question, only squeaky air comes out and Gaby lets out a sweet laugh. Illya clears his throat and tries his best to deepen the rasp more than usual.

“Is this too much for you? I’m not even naked, yet,” teases Gaby and this time, it’s Illya’s cheeks that are flushed.

“No,” Illya insists when he has better control of his vocal cords. “I just…need to take my trousers off. They rubbed me the wrong way.”

That’s obviously the wrong thing to say and he’s not sure why he even let it come to fruition. He’s not sure what it meant or what he thought that would explain. Except, instead of laughing, Gaby bites the corner of her bottom lip and her eyes darken. Luckily, he has not messed up their night quite yet.

“Then you should take them off. And I can tell you where my hands would go if I were there,” Gaby suggests, voice lower than before and now his work slacks are actually a little tight. All Illya can do for a long moment is swallow audibly. When he reaches down to unbutton his slacks, camera angling down just enough for her to catch the sight, a loud and obnoxious set of knocks beat down the hotel door. Jumping up, Illya mumbles a short Russian curse. Letting out a breath, he waits a moment then chooses to ignore the disruption. When he turns his attention back to Gaby, the intruder continues to knock and the last voice in the world he wants to hear shouts through the flimsy door.

“Peril, I know you’re in there. Open up! I’ve brought us some dinner,” Solo chirps in that blasted cheerful manner of his that oozes with the knowledge he probably interrupted something important.

“Go away, I already ate,” Illya lies. In fact, he was going to just order something from the hotel kitchens to avoid leaving the room. He wants to spend as much uninterrupted time talking to Gaby as he can.

“I know you didn’t. In fact, I know you’re Skyping with Gaby, which is sweet. You’re a good boyfriend. It’s kind of sickening. But Gaby can join us. I ordered her something too,” Solo says. Both Illya and Gaby frown. Gaby quirks her head in the adorable way she does when she’s confused. The faint noise of their London buzzer can be heard through the phone and they both jump.

“Wer ist das?” Gaby mumbles, righting her robe and climbing off the bed.

“It’s already paid for! I know how much you like Malaysian food, Gaby,” Solo says and Illya lets out a long, angry huff. Obviously, the meddling American has decided the three of them should all have dinner together, even though Gaby is not with them. He supposes this would be cute, if they were children. Illya really does not like the fact that Solo has begun to refer to the three of the as a ‘triad’. As much as he tries, Solo is not a part of this.

“It is good you are not here,” Illya tells Gaby as he jumps off the hotel bed with rage fueling his steps. “No one can stop me while I kill him.” 

“Oh, Illya, he’s just lonely and he doesn’t want to admit it,” Gaby insists, voice calming and sweet. Before meeting Gaby, Illya would just open the door and pull Solo into a choke hold. Now, he feels the anger escaping his body as quickly as it came. Much like making all his trips more exciting, she can calm him down over the little things that shouldn’t bother him. Root him back to reality. To a safe place. Sometimes Solo is included in that list of things that shouldn’t bother him but not always. 

“Why can’t he find himself a woman to keep him company like he used to? Instead of bothering me all evening,” Illya whines, feeling his stance collapse into something more relaxed. His fist unclenches and his shoulders drop. Before Solo decided that he was Illya’s only friend, the American would find the first beautiful and willing woman to take back to his hotel room. It was the reason why Illya later demanded his rooms to be far away from Solo’s. 

“Hello? You can’t hide forever, Peril,” Solo continues in an obnoxiously teasing tone.

“It’s a compliment, it means he likes us. Trusts us,” Gaby explains. “You know he’s only like this with his family. Besides, now you can catch your breath and maybe I will put on something cuter after the delivery boy leaves. You have all night to guess what color it is. I _will_ give you the hint that it’s tiny and lacey.”

Another squeak of air escapes before he can stop it. Now Illya finds himself standing in front of the door and thinking about all the different lacey things that Gaby owns. He never seems to be able to find a favorite of all the tiny lingerie she likes to strut about in just to get him tongue tied.

Peering into the peephole, he can see Solo’s distorted 1000 megawatt smile and the two large bags of food. Even if he is annoyed, he can admit he is quite hungry and Solo never skimps on food. The man can’t cook as well as he thinks he does but at least he pays for good quality products that Illya can improve upon. Letting out another colorful string of Russian curses, Illya opens the door and steps aside silently to let in the man that refuses to let their acquaintanceship die.


End file.
